AUTHOR'S NOTE: "A Fantasy of Susan" is the first in a trilogy of stories as related to me by my wife Marie. Be on the lookout for the 2nd installment "Erica's Real Bridal Shower", coming soon. WARNING: If you are offended by group sex, lesbianism, marital infidelity, or incest then this series is not for you.
The moist paradise created by Anya's suckling of my ear had me growing increasingly wet in other places as well. Judging by the warmth of her crotch on my legs and the stiffness of her nipples through the sheet between us, I could only guess she was equally as turned on.
My hands slid up and down her arms, often slipping to touch her sides and then getting lost in the tangle of her hair. My only "words" were a series of moans and my eyes fluttered in my head in a seizure of sexual delight.
"I'm not a lesbian." I weakly protested, my words seeming faint and hoarse.
"Neither am I." she whispered, her lips grazing the flesh of my ears with each move. "I'm just a woman helping her sister relax."
As she emphasized the word "woman" she ran her hand over my breast, rolling the nipple against the smooth flesh of her palm. It was then that I became aware that the sheet had fallen away and we were touching flesh to flesh. Something inside me no longer cared and I closed my eyes tightly, trying to find some anchor in this heavenly storm.
"I know you miss Craig." She cooed. "But I'm here to help you."
With that she kissed me, gently at first then harder, her hunger slowly rising to the surface.
My eyes opened and I looked at her. Her features seem to fade in and out. Her blonde hair seemed to darken little by little until it was the shade of burnt auburn and her deep blue eyes became pearls of blackest night. In an instant I realized what was happening. It was Susan, my own sister, I was seeing. It had been Susan all along. That moment in the shower when my hand made contact with my breast, it was my sister's hand. That tongue I had pictured between my legs as I rode my own hand into orgasm was Susan's, not Craig's. The gentle, soft breast I had leaned against in despair on the bathroom floor.
I guess I had associated 18 year old Susan with Anya since the first day we had met. There were the long muscular legs and the perky delectable tits. The long flowing hair, the well-defined mouth and facial feature, even the wicked though seemingly innocent smile.
Anya's tongue was snaking between my lips and I opened them to allow her access. Our tongues danced around each other as our hands traced lines along one another's bodies.
"Tell me what you want." She begged.